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monaboyd Dec. 3rd, 2003 12:18 am)
hullabaloo.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Dec. 3rd, 2003 12:18 am)Here's my first attempt at monaboyd.
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jacito
The Things You Hope to Find
A wedge of light cleaved the darkness. The door, notorious for its loose fit, had slipped its tumblers and drifted quietly open. The blonde wood of the floorboards appeared soft, supple, and faintly porous in the escaping light.
He hated to disturb the simple beauty of it. But he was pulled forward by this certainty: if he stepped into that wedge of light, what he had really come here for would be revealed.
His stomach clenched and his breaths were shallow. His heart pounded in his ears. Swallowing thickly, he started forward towards the shaft of light. Then stopped. His left hand drifted onto his right and began to twist at the ring upon his finger.
A low cough emitted from the room. In the stillness, he could hear the sound of rippling paper as the page of a book was turned. Picturing those fingers cradling the pliant spine, thumbs brushing softly along the rough edges of the pages, perhaps gripping them tighter, he found himself suddenly quite jealous of that book.
That did it. He stepped into the light, bringing his gaze in line with the gap between the door and the jam. Through the opening he glimpsed the front right corner of a black enamel desk and the bottom half of the rumpled bed. The occupied rumpled bed.
Dom sat near the foot of the bed, half Indian-style, with one knee pulled up, right elbow resting on top. In his hands he held a well-worn paperback. Turned just slightly away from the door, he was intent on the pages, the tip of his tongue sneaking out from between his lips. He was unshaven and his hair was mussed as if he had run his fingers through it in agitation while reading. He was barefoot, wearing faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt.
Billy suddenly found it even harder to breathe as he gazed at Dom from the dark safety of the hall. He reached a hand out to the wall to steady himself as he swayed ever so slightly on the balls of his feet.
POP.
The soft, supple floorboards betrayed Billy.
Dom’s head jerked up and turned towards the door at the sudden, sharp sound.
He locked eyes with Billy.
Billy gasped and turned quickly to walk away. He cringed as light flooded the hallway behind him, but kept walking until he heard Dom say softly, “Billy.” It was not a question. Nor was it a command. It was a plea.
Billy turned to face Dom, his lower lip trembling. In Dom’s eyes he found the mirror to his soul. He struggled to force words past the lump in his throat. “I…”
Dom closed the space between them in two strides. “I was waiting for you,” he murmured.
Taking Billy by the hand, Dom led the way back to his room where he made sure the door was firmly latched.
Dedicated to
jacitoThe Things You Hope to Find
A wedge of light cleaved the darkness. The door, notorious for its loose fit, had slipped its tumblers and drifted quietly open. The blonde wood of the floorboards appeared soft, supple, and faintly porous in the escaping light.
He hated to disturb the simple beauty of it. But he was pulled forward by this certainty: if he stepped into that wedge of light, what he had really come here for would be revealed.
His stomach clenched and his breaths were shallow. His heart pounded in his ears. Swallowing thickly, he started forward towards the shaft of light. Then stopped. His left hand drifted onto his right and began to twist at the ring upon his finger.
A low cough emitted from the room. In the stillness, he could hear the sound of rippling paper as the page of a book was turned. Picturing those fingers cradling the pliant spine, thumbs brushing softly along the rough edges of the pages, perhaps gripping them tighter, he found himself suddenly quite jealous of that book.
That did it. He stepped into the light, bringing his gaze in line with the gap between the door and the jam. Through the opening he glimpsed the front right corner of a black enamel desk and the bottom half of the rumpled bed. The occupied rumpled bed.
Dom sat near the foot of the bed, half Indian-style, with one knee pulled up, right elbow resting on top. In his hands he held a well-worn paperback. Turned just slightly away from the door, he was intent on the pages, the tip of his tongue sneaking out from between his lips. He was unshaven and his hair was mussed as if he had run his fingers through it in agitation while reading. He was barefoot, wearing faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt.
Billy suddenly found it even harder to breathe as he gazed at Dom from the dark safety of the hall. He reached a hand out to the wall to steady himself as he swayed ever so slightly on the balls of his feet.
POP.
The soft, supple floorboards betrayed Billy.
Dom’s head jerked up and turned towards the door at the sudden, sharp sound.
He locked eyes with Billy.
Billy gasped and turned quickly to walk away. He cringed as light flooded the hallway behind him, but kept walking until he heard Dom say softly, “Billy.” It was not a question. Nor was it a command. It was a plea.
Billy turned to face Dom, his lower lip trembling. In Dom’s eyes he found the mirror to his soul. He struggled to force words past the lump in his throat. “I…”
Dom closed the space between them in two strides. “I was waiting for you,” he murmured.
Taking Billy by the hand, Dom led the way back to his room where he made sure the door was firmly latched.
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